method in madness
by xfucktheglasses
Summary: Oh, how the mighty fall. —Trunks, Goten, Bra, Gohan.


**Notes: **I took _a lot_ of liberties with this little baby; with style, with age differences and with the universe. So, please don't try to correct me coz surely everything I did was on purpose. (:

And have vignettes because we're working on vignettes in my class.

* * *

**method in madness**

There's always a story to tell. It's only a matter of who wants to listen. Here's a tale of two elite Saiyans, a prince and a princess and how easily they spiral at fate's will. Oh, how the mighty fall.

* * *

.

**trunks—**

**conquistador **

He stands above chaos and rubble, death the air he breathes.

He drops his arm back to his side, the blade of his tainted sword digging into the ground. His eyes are blue and empty, lips in a frown as he watches another society—another race—falls at the hands of the Saiyans. A smirk slowly begins to tilt his lips to the side; another planet to add to the dozens that his family owned.

Trunks tilts his head to one side—then the other, the kinks cracking like music to his ears.

"Nice," he hears his best friend and partner say as he lands at his side. "You went out your way, huh?"

"I didn't even break a sweat," Trunks sighs, lifting his sword up and swiping it at the air. Blood dripped onto the jagged boulders, leaving the blade clean. "At this rate, we'll have to travel farther into the universe in search of a true challenge."

They both turn and begin to walk towards their Saiyan pods, half of their attention onto their scouters, searching—wishing—for something bigger to surprise them and lift their combat spirits up. This planet was a quiet one—the air all that dared to speak. Violet sky looks sad and alone and both Saiyans look up with a mock on their lips.

"Hey, I can be that challenge," his partner teases, chuckling.

"Yes," Trunks drawls. "But I wouldn't want to kill _you_, Goten."

"Your ego amazes me," Goten responds as he enters his pod. "Race ya."

And they're gone.

**goten—**

**siren**

The tankard hits the stone table with a solid _bing_. Goten leans back in his seat, his back leaning against the metal wall, cooling what little skin his armor allowed to be exposed. He's smirking, listening to the stories his older brother tells of his time on Earth, the only other planet allowed to keep its civilization going so long as Planet Vegeta and its king was the main influence and so long as there was no riots.

Gohan has been back for two weeks, home to check on their mother and check on him and make sure their father was still alive and commanding the Saiyan army with as much vigor as was normal.

They're sitting on one of the squared-stone tables on the far corner of one of the many bars within the kingdom. It is the four of them—two of the main Elites and the prince and princess of all Saiyans. Goten half listens, above the laughs of all the other classless idiots, as his brother speaks about a woman he has taken a liking to; which, he silently says to himself, would explain all the round trips to Earth and all the disappearances.

Goten scoffs, looking up, a crooked grin on his lips.

His eyes scan his brother, then Trunks and they linger on the thinnest, smallest of the four.

She's looking back at him, blue eyes like crystals; her red scouter (to mark her rank) striking against her pale face. She's hiding behind the rim of her tankard, but Goten can just imagine the curve of her lips, a smirk much like her brother's teasing him to the very core of his being. He narrows his eyes, tilting his head back just slightly enough to look down at her.

She laughs; he can't hear it, but the light shakes of her shoulders, the way her blue hair waves from side to side, behind her.

Goten swallows thickly.

"I have to go," he announces, cutting his brother and Trunks' battle short. He stands up and begins to walk away, the back of his neck hot and his molars grinding against each other.

**bra—**

**armor**

"I don't see a reason for me to wear my armor—I don't see a reason for me to even show my face to these people. These barbaric psychopaths that have little to no respect for their fucking royalty; their king, much less their princess. Do _you_ see a reason? Do you see a purpose for me to arm myself with this armor that means so much for our race?

These armors were the ones we wore while we were under the dictatorship of Frieza and we wear them now as a silent salute to the one tyrant that took us _decades_ to annihilate.

My father was exiled, you know.

Father lived fifteen years in the puny wasteland called Earth; that's how he met Mother.

That's how my brother and I started.

That's how everything started but I see no reason for me to wear one—I am never allowed into battle; if someone disrespects me, then someone steps in and defends me. I am never allowed to do anything on my own; do _you_ see the potential within me? Don't let my energy level fool you; your scouter knows nothing about me.

I can rip your head off.

I _want_ to rip your head off.

I want to destroy each and every one of you because you all make me sick.

But I wear it, still, this armor. I wear it, I wear my scouter—I wear this mask, this cool calm and collected mask because that is what is expected of me. Because that's what is wanted. Because that's what is demanded. I am the Princess of all Saiyans and I can't afford to step out of bound.

Che.

Princess of all Saiyans and still I have never conquered a damn planet of my own. I've never even left this stupid waste of a planet… Oh, but when I do… Heh, when I do…"

**goten—**

**intruder**

Planet Vegeta's red sky was a dark, burnt burgundy approximately five nights later.

Goten lays sprawled on his bed, torso glistening with sweat from the unbearable heat that night brought. His eyes are closed but he was fully awake, mind taking him back to his quest to annex the icy planet in the far north of the universe just to keep him cool. The bedroom was dark, his armor thrown to the side and his scouter off on one of the few desks that filled his simple room.

He hears buttons being pushed outside his door, hears it slide open and then closed.

He feels the energy level of someone, but he pretends to be asleep. Fool, whoever has the audacity to come and try to fight him while he has his guard down; in the most intimate moment of the day—while he sleeps. Fools to even try something on an Elite—much less the General's youngest son and one of King Vegeta's most valuable soldiers.

"I know you're awake."

A woman.

Goten's eyes snap open at the realization of who it is. He shifts, holding his torso up by his elbows. His eyes are on her, even through the darkness; he can see the slim curves of her silhouette, the blue tint of her hair by the moon's light.

"Bra," he states, softly.

She moves closer, walks around the bed until she's standing above him. "Hello, Goten."

"You shouldn't be here."

"I do what I want," she hisses, her small hands on the knot of her robe. "And you are no one to tell me where I should and shouldn't be."

Goten swallows and continues to look up at her.

Her blue eyes are like the blazing fire in the deepest pits of hell. And he likes it—oh, how he likes it. He admits to it, finally; fuck, he admits to it.

"You speak one thing," she murmurs, bending forwards. "But you want something entirely different—I can see it in your eyes, Goten."

"Bra," Goten growls as she climbs on top of him. But he doesn't say anything as she kisses him, rather he kisses back. And he doesn't say anything when she removes her robe, rather he lets his hands wander—lets them memorize every curve and every swell and every little spot that made her gasp and sigh and laugh. He says nothing and does everything.

**gohan—**

**gentle**

Maybe it's the fact that he keeps spending most of his time on Earth.

Maybe it's the fact that there wasn't much to worry about, there; those humans are so terrified of the Saiyans, they don't even move a hair out of line. Maybe it is that.

It had to be that, what was making his muscles so soft, what was making his mentality so relaxed what was making his heart so fragile.

This is why he requested King Vegeta give him coordination of somewhere he can go and destroy—foreign races to enslave and an entire planet to seize. He sits on his pod, completely irritated with himself; his father would be disappointed and his brother would sneer his way had he been paying attention during their time at the bar.

Gohan sighs as he feels the atmosphere of the world begin to budge against his pod. Adrenaline courses through his veins at the sheer fact that he was close to landing. His scouter begins to go off with energy level—none above nine-thousand—none above one hundred.

Not a fighting planet, he notes and sighs.

He didn't know if King Vegeta was merely mocking him—as was usual of his king—or if he truly thought he was not ready for a planet that would put up a fight. Either way, he says to himself as his pod lands with a powerful thud and opening the door upon landing, it was something.

Night overtook the planet and he could see the green of the grass even within darkness; the light of the full moon—

The full moon.

Gohan's eyes go wide and a soft gasp escapes his lips.

Videl.

Around his waist, his tail begins to twitch and everything begins to blur.

Videl.

His brain pounds as it tries to escape the restrains of his skull.

Videl.

And all he can remember before everything goes black—

Videl.

Videl.

Videl.

He's enormous—his transformation complete. He pounds against his chest and roars to the moon before he begins to terrorize the planet and cause chaos. Screams reach deaf ears and all his demonic eyes can see is bloodshed; his satiation is incomplete and he roars once again, demolishing buildings as we goes.

Videl—

—is the last thing he thinks about; and the first thing he remembers the following morning as he lays on rubbles above craters.

**bra—**

**ignite**

She stares at herself in the mirror.

Her armor lies on her bed and she stands before the mirror in her burgundy one-piece, legs exposed. Her tail sways behind her, soft and soothing before it curls around her small waist. She's everything any ogre out there wants and she's everything none of them would ever get. And she wonders if all she is, is a trophy—a toy—a fickle fantasy that changes every day and every night. She wonders if they ever question what it would be like to have her on the other side of a battle.

Do they fear her?

Alone—her power—do they fear it?

Or do they fear the title that hovers over her head, the identical frown and identical smirks and identical sarcasm and identical pride as her father's.

Is that whom they fear?

Bra swallows thickly and she watches as her throat constricts with the effort. She closes her eyes and runs her dainty fingers down the curves of her body; she pretends her hands aren't hers and her lips tilt, part, press together as everything escalates. She snaps her eyes open a second later and reaches for her scouter and for her armor.

She walks out of her bedroom and down the tallest tower of the kingdom. And when she reaches the bedroom, she knows he's there and she knows he's not asleep. Inside, he lies on his stomach, a hand hanging off the bed.

"Do you crave for me like the other men do?"

Silence.

"How do they crave for you?"

"Do you wish to use my body and nothing more?"

She's breathing hard, but she ignores it.

"Do you comply with this because I demand it—"

He turns around, sits up and allows the silk sheets to pool on his lap. His hair is a mess and his torso is bare; Bra follows the sharp lines of his muscles and feels her throat go dry.

"Look," he says, his voice soft. "I don't have the answer for any of that. And I'm not going to say what you want to hear because you want it. I'm an asshole, but I have my limits."

She crawls onto the bed and she swears she hears her screams of past nights; it causes her toes to curl inside her boots, causes a shiver to run down her spine. "I like the way you touch me."

"I like to touch you."

Bra lies down and looks up at the ceiling. "I wish to fight you."

She waits for it—for the scoff and the laugh; the mock of her being unable to keep up with his speed and his power. She wait for him to let her down gently, for the denial of her request; she waits for him to roll over and hover above her, his eyes locking with hers and for him to devour every inch of her body and soul.

But he does none.

He lies back down on the bed, arms crossed behind his head and remains silent. She closes her eyes, lips pursing to keep them from trembling; she wished for him to be different; but—

"So we'll fight," he says.

Something inside her burns.

**gohan—**

**direction**

He steps out of his pod, stumbling and bleeding.

Gohan doesn't realize when she's at his side; he doesn't realize that he isn't on Planet Vegeta, but on Earth. He groans, crumbling to his knees; he is unbalanced, without his tail. He is naked, without his armor. He is blind, without his scouter. But he groans because he's free.

"This is how we fall," he sighs into her ear. He closes his eyes and smiles.

**bra—**

**clean**

It's raining; the burgundy sky is dark and cloudy. The rain pelting the ground causes dirt and dust to rise from the desert-like grounds, forming clouds of soil.

She sits at the very top of the tower, on the roof with her legs tucked under her chin, her arms hugging them close. Her tail sways, behind her; it is comforting and Bra closes her eyes and lets the downpour wash her clean. The blood that lingers on her palms, her arms, her thighs, her legs and her face begins to wash down, tinting her pale skin a rosy-red. Her hair begins to stick to her neck and to her face and her scouter could very well be useless, now.

The scratches and scars that loiters her body sting at the cold touch of the frozen downpour; the bruises pulse with every ten seconds. She welcomes it with vigor.

This is what it must feel like to be a true warrior, she muses, her lips curving upwards.

With her eyes closed, she thinks about these past weeks and all that has changed about her. Her thirst for battle, satiated; her desire for Son Goten… She smiles.

She extends a hand out, palm cupped to catch some of the rain. Some of her blue hair falls over her face, sticking to her lips as she murmurs, "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

**trunks—**

**madness**

'_It's taking all I have to control myself, to not explode this pathetic pod and get myself killed in the middle of space with nothing around me. That'd be a waste; a stupid way for the Prince of all Saiyans to die. No, I won't do it—that's stupid. If I'm going to die young, it's going to be in battle, it's going to be against someone powerful—more powerful than my father, than Kakarrot._

_This—_

_This feeling inside me isn't what'll be my demise. _

_I refuse it._

_So I control it and close my eyes, nails digging crescent shaped scars into my palms. I try to think of something else—anything. But it proves to be impossible. Nothing can tear my attention from this. This is madness—all of this. I don't know if it's hurt what I feel because I've never felt it before._

_I don't know if this is betrayal—but its close enough._

_And by god, how hard it is to keep it at bay._

_We land onto this planet without a name, crashing into the ground with power and leaving massive craters in our wake. My pod opens and I'm standing outside, looking around at the place; I hate myself for finding comfort in the civilization my scouter finds miles and miles away. I should want you dead._

_I should want to kill you._

_You step out of your pod a minute after I do; you were probably asleep. _

_I wish to scream until my throat is raw._

_All these things I know about you, old friend—all the things I know—like a book. Like the palm of my own hand. _

_And to never have thought that you… no._

_I don't want to think about it._

_You speak and I don't listen, I unsheathe my sword, one hand turning to your pod with my palm facing it. A sneer overtakes my features as I send an energy blast and destroy it; you yell at me for being careless and demand to know how you'll get home. I let my anger rise so I have the strength to point my sword at you; the tip at your throat and close enough so I have the chance to slice your jugular._

_I scream at you._

_This is your exile, Son Goten._

_You are forbidden to return to Planet Vegeta._

_I feel my insides crumble and this must be the human side within me that my mother passed down to me; this side that breaks because you and I were like brothers, were we not? Trained and put together since birth as we were sent to the same planet to destroy it as mere infants._

_And this is how it ends._

_I sheathe my sword and walk towards my pod._

_The last thing I hear is your angry, sarcastic laugh. The last thing I see is the madness in your eyes.'_

**goten—**

**fall**

"This is how the elite fall from grace."

He stares at the sky.


End file.
